Ascension

by C J M Naylor

  It has taken everything in my power not to go searching for them myself. For I know if I do this the plans I put in place for Abigail's safety will be for nothing. It also pains me to think of the other adoptive family that you had in mind, and how they will never get to see their child, nor know what happened to her.

  My dear Eleanor. She sacrificed so much for me. So, so much. And for what in return? The most heinous of deaths? And the worst part of it all is that I know if she were here, she'd do it again. The things we do for the ones we love.

  I hope you're doing well, and I hope that your son is doing well also. I know you were worried about how he would turn out. I'm confident in my marrow he'll be fine. You're giving him such a good life. He will be fine. And you will be fine. Though we never acted on our feelings for each other, I want you to know I've always loved you. And while it may seem like I chose, I never did.

  Thank you for keeping my secret.

  Love,

  E.

  When I looked up from the letter, I realized that my eyes were burning. I had been crying. I looked back at the letter and reread different parts. The part that caught my attention the most, was where she acknowledged that she had been in love with Henry. She stated they had never acted on their feelings, which I took to mean she had always been faithful to my father. But she had loved more than just him. And there was a certain comfort in that—in knowing it was okay to love more than one person, that you couldn't help it. And while my situation was different, it made me feel better about loving Thomas, even though I was still in love with Phillip, and even though I might always be in love with Phillip. That was what life was.

  I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and then tucked the letters into the bag I was carrying with me. I would read them. Not all at once, but I would read them. And I would meet her. I was going to meet my mother. Nothing would stop me.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  "We got a C-47 Skytrain."

  I looked up as Oliver appeared, followed by Thomas and Henry.

  I raised an eyebrow at him. "I'm sorry?"

  Thomas smiled. "We've got an airplane."

  And then I felt it. Hatred. Pure hatred. Evil. I closed my eyes and leaned forward. It was almost as if I was getting sick and throwing up the contents of my stomach. My hands went up to my ears to try and muffle the screaming I was hearing, but I knew that would be no use. The screaming was coming from within me. Not outside of me.

  "Abigail?"

  I felt Thomas' hands on my shoulders.

  "Are you okay?" he asked, massaging my shoulders gently.

  I shook my head. "She's here. Melanie's here. I can feel her."

  Thomas abruptly stood up and announced to the room, "We need to go. Where's Alma?"

  "She went to the restroom," Oliver said. "I'll find her. The rest of you get outside to the runway."

  "Come on," Thomas said, pulling me up.

  As soon as I stood, however, I crippled over onto the floor. I had no idea what she was doing to me, but it was unbearable. Feeling evil and hatred, it felt like knives stabbing you all over your body. Over and over and over again they stabbed you. But you never died. It felt like never ending torture.

  "I don't think I can walk," I muttered. "I don't know what she's doing to me."

  And then suddenly Thomas was carrying me, and we were running to the stairs that would take us down to the runway where the plane was waiting. I put my hands around Thomas' neck to steady myself.

  As soon as we were outside, snow was slamming into our faces. It was a literal blizzard. And it was freezing. I shivered in Thomas' arms. I looked ahead and saw the plane in front of us. It was a bronze color, with W7 written on the side of it. A door on the side of the plane, toward the back, was open and waiting for us to enter through it.

  A man's screams erupted out of nowhere. These weren't in my head. Thomas turned around and there was Henry buckling over on the ground behind us. He was drastically aging. It was one of the Forbidden Powers. Not far behind him was Lucinda. Her blonde hair blew in the wind of the blizzard. She wore a long, blue coat tied around her waist. As always, she wore heels that could be heard clicking against the concrete, even in the sounds of the blizzard. And the blizzard wasn't keeping her back. She continued to move forward, her piercing, blue eyes concentrated on Henry.

  Thomas turned and headed for the plane. "Shit, shit, shit." He was running now. As soon as he reached the entrance to the plane, he placed me safely inside and then ran back for Henry. The pain that I had been feeling from Melanie slightly subsided. I assumed we had put a little distance between us, wherever it was they were keeping her. When I turned back to look out of the plane, I still only saw Lucinda, using her powers on Henry. She took one look at Thomas running to save his father, and he too went down.

  "Thomas!" I shouted.

  Lucinda's attention turned toward me, and she began walking through the blizzard once more, past the two men she had sent buckling in pain to the ground. She was determined as she marched. She looked like an unstoppable queen of ice, her blonde hair whipping around her face, her piercing gaze on me. I'd had about enough of this. I forced myself up and exited the plane and made a run toward Lucinda. She didn't stop marching toward me and I could feel her trying to use her power on me. But it wasn't as strong. Because it wasn't meant to be used on me. I was an original Timekeeper. Just keep moving, I told myself. Keep moving. I ran and ran toward her and then I pushed my body right into her, taking us both toward the ground.

  My thought process was correct. She hadn't expected I'd do that and her concentration was lost. Thomas and Henry were standing up now.

  "Hello, grandmother," I said, looking down at her.

  "You stupid girl," Lucinda said to me.

  "Am I the stupid one?" I asked her. "You clearly didn't bring enough provisions to help you take me back today."

  She laughed at me. "I think you'll be surprised. Haven't you noticed that your little friends aren't here with you?"

  But then they were. I looked up and they were running toward us. I smiled and looked back at Lucinda. She was clearly displeased.

  "What are you going to do then?" she asked me. "Are you going to kill me?"

  Closing my eyes, I put my hands around Lucinda's neck. I couldn't look at her as I did it. This wasn't me, but I couldn't allow her to keep killing people, to fulfill whatever she wanted me to fulfill.

  She began to slacken beneath my grip, but then she managed four words that made me stop.

  "You need me alive."

  My eyes widened. "What do you mean?"

  She laughed at that, and then everyone appeared at my side.

  "I need a weapon," I said, looking up at them all.

  They all looked at each other, clearly unsure what to do.

  "Does anyone have a weapon?" I demanded, almost screaming.

  Finally, Oliver reached into his bag and pulled out a knife.

  "Get on the plane," I told them, taking the knife from Oliver.

  "I'm not leaving you here," Thomas said to me.

  I stared them all down and said firmly, "Get. On. The. Plane. I'm right behind you."

  They all looked at each other and then turned, running toward the plane. I looked back at Lucinda, putting the knife against the edge of her throat.

  "What do you mean?" I said to her.

  She only smiled and so I dug the knife a bit deeper, making a small cut, and making her eyes grow wide.

  "I sealed the original Headquarters," she said. "Only I can open it. And you need me alive."

  No. No, no, no.

  "You're lying," I said, pressing the knife even harder.

  Even though her life was in my hands, she grinned a wicked smile at me. "Maybe, but I'd hate for you to kill me and then be stuck in this world. All that death on your hands."

  I hit her then. A rage came through me and I hit her. It didn't kill her, but it left her unconscious. I stood up, pocketed the knife, and ran toward the plane. The blizzard was on
ly getting stronger. When I reached the plane, I looked back and saw Lucinda's figure on the concrete and another person coming out of the blizzard. Ian.

  He knelt down beside Lucinda and cradled her. As if she meant everything to him. And then he looked at me.

  "Go," I said to Oliver as I jumped into the plane. He had positioned himself in the pilot's seat. "Go now!"

  Thomas stepped forward and shut the door, closing us off from the world.

  "Let's hope to God we don't die in take off," Oliver said, starting up the engine of the plane. "Not like we have a choice."

  "One good thing about all of this," Thomas said, "they can't travel back by Time Line now."

  A smile lit up my face at that. I remembered what Thomas had told me about traveling with the Time Line. It could drop you in any location that you requested, but if there wasn't a Time Line there, you were stuck getting back the old fashioned way. The only Time Line in America right now, was technically under water in San Francisco.

  The plane began to move down the runway, faster and faster and faster. And then we were up in the air. I looked out the windows of the plane. We were going up through the blizzard, and then we were out of it. Above the clouds. In the air. Safe.

  At least for now.

  "What are you doing?"

  Lucinda stood near the cliff's edge, the man she loved perched precariously on it, holding their newborn child.

  "Evil!" he shouted at her.

  Lucinda shook her head, tears falling from her eyes.

  "No," she said, "I'm just like you, except I have this ability."

  "Liar!" he shouted. "It's sorcery. It goes against nature and creation! And now you've tainted our child with it. I won't let you defile him."

  The man stepped back.

  "Please don't," Lucinda said, "please. I promise you I'm good. I would never hurt our child."

  The man simply shook his head and then he stepped off the cliff and was gone.

  "NO!" Lucinda shouted, running to the cliff's edge as if she could stop them, but she couldn't look. She couldn't. She fell to her knees and screamed a guttural cry from within.

  "Lucinda."

  Someone was calling her back. Lucinda's head was pounding, but she forced herself to open her eyes, and she found she was back at the airport, the wind howling and the snow slapping her in the face. She realized Ian was leaning over her and pushed herself up.

  "I heard what you told her," Ian said.

  Lucinda nodded. "It's how we will all come together in the end."

  "But we don't have time," Ian said. "She could wait us out."

  Shaking her head, Lucinda looked up at Ian and smiled. "What is the one thing that would her get her to come to us?"

  Ian looked back at where the plane had taken off and then back at Lucinda.

  "Thomas," he said, "but how?"

  "That boy is Bessie Watson's child," Lucinda said. "Bessie told me this long ago, but I didn't believe her until now. I saw her in him."

  "They don't look that much alike," Ian said.

  "Dear," Lucinda said sweetly, but with a hint of poison to it, "when you've been on the earth for over 10,000 years, you can tell things like that. That boy's mother is Bessie, and when he finds out, it will destroy him. He'll be vulnerable. And Abigail, well, she doesn't want to tell him. She's afraid of how he'll react, how it'll change him. Let him be angry, let him confront her, let him leave her. And then, we'll take him. And only then will she come willingly."

  "Lucinda," Melanie said, walking up to them. She had been kept hidden, just in case, from everything that had taken place. "They are going to Paris."

  "That's where her father is," Headrick said, also appearing at their side, rubbing the back of her head. "They took me by surprise and knocked me out."

  Lucinda turned away from them, staring out at the empty openness. "They were stronger than I thought. But not to worry. We'll have them. And Paris, you say?"

  "It's not him though," Melanie said. "They aren't going there for him. They are going for someone else."

  Lucinda gave her a questioning look. "Who?"

  "That's the strange thing," Melanie responded, "I can't see it. Every time I try to, it's like there's a smoke screen."

  Surprisingly, Lucinda smiled at this. "Her powers are growing. She's protecting something."

  "They think we are stuck here," Melanie said, laughing. "They don't seem to realize the full scope of our power."

  Lucinda stood now, brushing the snow off. "Of course, they don't. But they will."

  "Excuse me!"

  All of them turned to see a police officer heading toward them. "What do you think you all are doing?"

  Lucinda reached into the pocket of her coat, clutching a dagger in her hand. She walked up to the officer, holding out her free hand, and freezing him in place. And then she removed her dagger and slide the blade across the man's throat.

  "Nothing, officer," she whispered innocently in his ear as his blood spilt to the concrete.

  Lucinda held her hand out over the blood and used the energy of Time to create a temporary Time Line.

  "To Paris we go," she said, nodding at the others to step into the Time Line.

  Once we were up in the air, I sat next to Thomas and Alma on a bench that lined the interior of the plane. It was normally used as a cargo plane, so there wasn't a place to technically sit and be comfortable.

  "It's going to get cold in here," Thomas said, pulling some blankets out of the bags he brought with him. He handed one to Alma and one to me.

  "What happened?" Alma asked, looking at me. "It didn't look like you killed her."

  I shook my head. "I couldn't."

  Everyone needed to know this. Henry looked back from the pilot’s seat, listening, ready to communicate what I said to Oliver if needed.

  "Lucinda told me that she sealed the original Headquarters," I said. "So even if we get there, we can't open it. And the only way to open it is with her. She has to be alive."

  "She could be lying," Alma said.

  "I know, but I don't think she is. One way or another, this all ends there, with her, and with me. But from here on out, should we encounter her again, as much as it pains me to say this, we have to keep her alive. Or we are all dead."

  "What happened with you?" I said, looking to Alma. "You weren't with us."

  "Headrick found me," Alma replied. "But Oliver and Henry got her away from me. And we got out."

  "Did you see my sister?" I asked her.

  Alma shook her head. "No."

  I looked away from her. I knew that they wouldn't want Melanie in the action. They were keeping her safe. If anything happened to her, or me for that matter, their whole plan would be destroyed. There would be no more prophecy.

  It struck me how ironic it was that they needed Melanie and I alive for their plans and I needed Lucinda alive.

  "Everyone get comfortable," Oliver announced from the cockpit. "We're in for a long ride. I'm just hoping we won't hit any rough weather along the way."

  If we did hit rough weather, it could be blamed on me. Everything could be blamed on me.

  It occurred to me that I was shivering from the freezing temperatures when Thomas put his arm around me and pulled me close to him. He quickly fell asleep, his head resting on my shoulder. I let myself slip into the comfort of his embrace as I contemplated everything I knew about the prophecy, Lucinda, and my mother. My mother. The letter she had left me. I still had it. And in it, she had mentioned her own mother.

  I quickly reached for the pocket watch she had left for me. It was safely clasped around my neck, but I had stowed the letter inside it. I was glad I had. My heart hurt as I realized all of my other possessions, things my parents and Phillip had given me, were now under water in San Francisco. Even if I did fix this, how far back would everything be fixed? Was it possible to undo so much damage? So much heartbreak? So much death?

  I brushed the thoughts aside and opened the pocket watch, letting the letter tu
cked inside fall into my lap. I unraveled and reread the words.

  Whoever reads this has taken my daughter in. For that I thank you. I only have two requests that I hope you will honor. First, name her Abigail. It was my mother's name. Second, please tell her when she asks about her biological family (if she ever asks) that she has none. After I am finished writing this, she won't. I will be dead within the next few hours. Her father died not long after I was with child. We had no living relatives. Please care for her as if she were your own biological child. Her birthday is December 8, 1925.

  -Her mother.

  Most of the letter had been falsified. I knew that. She had said that Mathias was dead so I wouldn't meet him, so I wouldn't be initiated, so I wouldn't set the prophecy in motion. But Mathias hadn't known that, and Ian had been working against him. Everything she had done, all the sacrifices she had taken, had been for nothing. But the one thing that baffled me about the letter was that she said I was named after her mother. Her mother's name was Lucinda, not Abigail. I realized she could have easily been lying about this too, but it seemed so trivial a thing to lie about. Why not just say my name was Abigail? Why add a lie about it being her mother's name? There was something to this I was missing.

  Sighing, I folded the letter back up and tucked it inside the pocket watch. I lifted my legs onto the bench and laid down. Resting my head in Thomas' lap, I stared up at the ceiling and thought about everything, trying to wrap my mind around it all. But I was exhausted. No matter how much sleep I had gotten over the past few days, I was constantly exhausted. And slowly, I nodded off to sleep.

  At some point I woke up. Henry and Oliver were still in the cockpit, flying us to safety. I was no longer in Thomas' lap. Instead he had laid down on his side and pulled me close to him, his arms around me. I carefully slipped out of his arms and stood up, rubbing my hands over my arms. The plane was freezing.